Find a stinky, pick it up...

When I told my friends I was going to Bulgaria for the weekend, the reaction was usually the same - laughter. I guess it's not the most traditional choice for a winter vacation spot...

I went anyway. My dear friend Harry McPhee Winters is attending med school in Sofia, which if you didn't know (and you probably didn't) is the capital of Bulgaria. It's a pretty cool city, but I'm not sure I'd live there for 6 years. When I asked what Harry and his friends do to entertain themselves, they said that they drink until they forget that they're in Bulgaria. They were mostly kidding... it's hard to forget that you're in Bulgaria. Ha!

Although Bulgaria became a part of the European Union in 2007, they are still transitioning in many ways. For example, they still haven't switched to the Euro from the Bulgarian Lev. The Bulgarian cent is called a "statinki" which, needless to say, was incredibly entertaining. (The Americans call it a "stinky" for short.) I just wanted to say "statinki" all day long...

"Do you have any statinkis on you?"
"I certainly hope not."

"Find a statinki, pick it up, all day long you'll have... a statinki."

When I recovered from the fit of statinki-inspired laughter, I managed to find some time to explore Sofia. My favorite sight was the Alexander Nevsky cathedral. Alexander Nevsky was the Grand Prince of Vladimir and ruled over all of Russia in the 1200's. The cathedral is definitely a testament to his importance - it's one of the most impressive churches I've seen. It was built in the early 1900's which makes it a baby compared to most of the other European churches I've seen - construction of Bologna's San Petronio began in 1390 - but I was still awestruck by the beauty of it. The design is different than the design of any church I've seen, a "cross dome" design consisting of several domes and half domes which give it a really interesting shape.

Here's a photo, because I know I couldn't do it justice with words. I mean, I guess I could say "bulbous" or something, but it seems like an insult... (Courtesy of Google Images - my photos of the church came out neon green for some reason.)

As I was walking past the cathedral with Harry's roommate Richard (who was kind enough to show me around while Harry was studying), I heard singing coming from inside. We went in to check it out, and walked into an evening mass. The priest was wearing ornate robes, chanting and holding up a huge golden bible. Everyone was bowing before him, there was a choir singing the mass, and the entire cathedral was illuminated by candles. It was beautiful. One of those moments where taking a photo would have been completely unacceptable, so I'll just have to rely on the memory.

My other favorite sight in Sofia was the National Theater, which is the oldest theater in Bulgaria. We happened to walk by during the intermission of a play, so we decided to follow the crowd and sneak into the second half of the show. We found balcony seats and watched the second half of what appeared to be a play about a group of people trapped on some kind of crazy demon bus. Only in Bulgaria.



As it turns out, the play was actually a political satire. Not sure what a demon bus is supposed to satirize, but whatever, I'm sure the Bulgarians understand.

Of the many, many oddities of Bulgarian culture, the food is by far the most strange. Harry and I ordered a salad during my first evening in Sofia, and this is what we were presented with:
Potatoes, eggs, pickles, and a yogurt sauce. I forgot that Bulgarian salads don't include lettuce, or for that matter, vegetables. No, pickles don't count. This actually leads me to another interesting fact about Bulgarian cuisine: Bulgarians love pickles. Pickles on pizza, pickles stuffed in pastries, pickles in "salad", pickles pickles pickles. I would often catch a whiff of pickles as I was walking down the street. Only in Bulgaria.

On my last day In Sofia, I went to a bookstore and spent my few remaining statinkis on a very worthwhile souvenier: Малкият принц in cyrillic, "Malkiyat Prints" in the latin alphabet, or "The Little Prince" in English. Along with the copy of "El Principito" that Ryan brought me from Chile, my little travel companion now speaks 5 languages. I've decided that if I can't learn every language in the world, which sounds awfully time-consuming, maybe he can.... Next on the list is Dutch - I'm off to Holland in a few weeks!

As Meninas em Portugal or, "Better late than never - part 3"

To make up for my lack of blogging, I wrote three blogs in one day. I don't care if that's cheating...

This week, I went to visit Marta in Portugal! I was feeling a little heartbroken due to Ryan's early departure (he needed to be at home) but when I arrived in Portugal I realized that it's actually impossible to be unhappy there.

I left my house on the evening of the 4th and spent the night in Pisa with two friends. We didn't actually sleep at all - since I had to leave for the airport at 4:30AM, I didn't really see the point. I arrived in Porto, a beautiful city in Northern Portugal, at around 9:30AM. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but excited to be there. Marta and her friend Manel met me in the city center and we ate a traditional Portuguese lunch which, since I can't remember the name in Portuguese right now, I'll call "meat-stuffed meat, covered in meat sauce with a side of meat."

Actually, I could describe all of my meals in Portugal with this same description. My poor little body went into a kind of meat-coma which it's still struggling to recover from. It was worth it though - everything I tried was delicious, with the exception of that first lunch. It slightly resembled a sandwich, in that there was bread involved. Between the slices of bread, there were about 6 or 7 types of meat, including a few kinds of sausage, various sliced meats and steak. This meaty sandwich of death was covered with slices of cheese, and doused in some kind of salty meaty broth. I managed to eat about half of it but then I was sure that my arteries couldn't take any more abuse. I think the waitress was offended...

Despite its questionable cuisine, Porto was an incredible city and I enjoyed our day there. It has a beautiful river, with a bridge designed by the same architect who designed the Eiffel Tower. Many of the town's buildings were old and crumbling, but still beautiful.That night we stayed with Ana, a friend who studies in Bologna with us. Her family lives in Braga, which is another northern city about 45 minutes from Porto. They fed us an amazing dinner of you-know-what and I got a much-needed good night's sleep.

In the morning we went to visit another friend, Marta (I call her l'altra Marta, the other Marta) in a town called Viana do Castelho. We didn't see much of the town itself, but we did see its church, Santa Luzia which is on a hill overlooking the city and the Atlantic ocean. It was beautiful.
Portuguese cities (at least, the few that I've seen) have a remarkable ability to seem tranquil and relaxed even in the midst of big-city chaos. I'm sure it has a lot to do with the people, who are incredibly friendly, but I think the architecture also has something to do with it. It's a lot different than the architecture in Italy. For example, the churches here in Bologna are huge and imposing. There's a sense of power, of strength, of trying to be the best. Bologna's cathedral would have been the biggest in the world if its construction had been completed! The churches that I saw in Portugal were smaller and more delicate, as if the architects focused on beauty rather than size. I found myself imagining what it would have been like to live there when the churches were first constructed, wandering through the gardens without the noise of passing traffic.
We went to two more churches in Braga, called Bom Jesus and Sameiro. Like the church in Viana, they overlook the city and I think I could have stayed there for days, relaxing and enjoying the view.
I had an amazing time visiting Ana and Marta in their hometowns. We've been friends in Bologna for a while but have never gotten to know each other really well. They welcomed us into their homes, introduced us to their families and showed us around their cities. It was such a good chance to get to know them better.

From left to right: La mia Marta, Manel, Me, L'altra Marta, and Ana.

After our perfect few days in the North, we left Braga and headed to Lisbon. It was about a 3 hour drive - almost the full length of Portugal. We got there just in time for a late lunch at (drumroll please)... Chili's! That's right, one and the same - the first in Europe. I was so excited that I called my friend Andrew (a renowned Chili's expert) in San Diego to ask for ordering advice. I'm not sure how much he appreciated my call at 7AM Pacific time....

That night, we stayed with Marta's family and ate a slightly more traditional Portuguese meal of bakalau, which is codfish. It's no Chili's but I enjoyed it anyway.

For our final day in Portugal, Marta showed me around Lisbon. We went to the main shopping roads, visited the top of a huge outdoor elevator and looked over the city and Lisbon's river, which I'm convinced is actually the ocean. Look at this, it's massive:
It's actually amazing how similar Lisbon is to San Francisco. There is a bridge that looks almost exactly like the Golden Gate Bridge, the river looks just like the SF bay - they even have old cable cars just like we have in San Francisco. They're practically identical. Walking around the city gave me a strange sense of deja vu.
Marta, Manel and I decided to take one of the cable cars up to Lisbon's castle. As we were running to catch it, I felt something tugging on my purse and looked down to see someone's hand grabbing my hat. I turned and saw my hat on the ground behind me and, thinking that I had been pickpocketed, started to check my purse to see what was missing. The woman who'd had her hand in my bag was still standing there, so I said something like "excuse me!" and she said something indignant in Portuguese. (Marta told me later that she had said "let me by".) I was confused and knew something had happened, but the woman stepped in front of me, blocking my view of her friend who was holding my wallet! Luckily, Marta saw my wallet in the friend's hand and grabbed it back because, well, she's a badass. Both the women ran off, and we got on the cable car.

Everyone on the cable car had seen what happened, and the bus driver even jokingly said that Marta should have punched the woman. (And, go figure, there was a big sign on the street car that said "Beware of Pickpockets"). It was a close call - I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost my wallet. Ryan had just paid me in case for his share of the travel expenses, so I had close to 400 euro in my wallet, along with my credit and debit cards. Thank goodness Marta noticed the second woman who had my wallet...

Relieved that I hadn't experienced every traveler's worst nightmare, Marta and I relaxed for a while, wandering around in the city's castle. It was beautiful, and I couldn't help but pretend that I was a princess... yeah, I know it's cheesy but I sat in a window sill, gazing out at the view of the city and pretending that the big stone room was my "bedchambers". To be honest, I don't think I'll ever grow out of the princess fantasties.

Then we went to a tiny little restaurant and had a great lunch with great sangria. It was delicious! Later, after a nap, we had a wonderful dinner with her family, and traditional Portuguese sweets for dessert. They're called Pastéis de Belém, and they're glorious. Warm custard in a flaky pastry shell, crispy brûléed top, sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon. Oh my goodness, I could create a religion dedicated to these little goodies. I'm seriously considering living in Portugal just so I can eat them every day. I'd get a little apartment above the bakery...

I'm not sure if you've noticed this trend in my blogs - I like food. I like to eat it, and I like to write about eating it. This may have something to do with the fact that I've gained a few kilos since arriving in Italy. Some of my friends are trying the whole dieting thing but I think my method of eating as much as I can, as often as I can, is much more fun.

Ok, snapping out of the euphoric daze induced by too much food talk!!

I had planned to head to Barcelona after Lisbon (I still had the plane tickets leftover from my travel plans with Ryan) but the idea of going by myself didn't sound too appealing. I love traveling alone, I enjoy the independence and adventure of it, but now isn't the right time. Also, the weather predicted lots of cold and lots of rain in Barcelona. Dreary weather doesn't usually help a dreary mood, so I booked a ticket back to Bologna instead and returned home this morning. Even though I was only gone a few days, I was so happy to see my bed that I plopped into it and didn't move for an embarassingly long period of time. But hey, it gave me time to catch up on my blog!

That's it for now, and I'll try not to fall into the habit of binge-blogging. Love to all of you, Happy New Year :)

New Years 2009 or, "Better late than never - part 2"

Ryan arrived in Bologna on the 29th, and we decided that instead of traveling for New Year's Eve, we'd stay here in Bologna for an annual celebration in Piazza Maggiore. I wasn't really sure what to expect and looking back on it, I'm not really sure what happened.

I'll let you see for yourselves:



Yes, that is a giant rat statue. Yes, it's on fire. Yes, it's in the middle of a crowd of people. The idea is that the rat represents all of the bad things that happened in 2008, and burning it is the perfect way to start 2009 with a clean slate. It's a nice idea, and a really creepy ritual. It was especially festive when flaming pieces of that rat started flying into the crowd, or when it finally collapsed... and no, I'm not kidding. How could I make this up?

Bologna on New Year's Eve was completely different from the city I've grown used to. While it can be bustling and rowdy at times, I've never seen it like this. Drunken, rowdy crowds, pushing and shoving, teenagers setting off firecrackers in the streets and sidewalks- not to mention the giant, fiery rat monster. It was insane. On several occasions I was actually lifted off the ground by the mob of people in the piazza. My friend Molly joked that judging by the amount of times she was groped in the crowd, she "must have about 100 new Italian boyfriends".

While it was an amazing and certainly one-of-a-kind experience, I think Bologna's NYE party is a little intense for my tastes. I've always preferred a slightly more peaceful setting, and I felt quite nostalgic looking back on my favorite New Year's Eve celebrations: three years ago in Cabo San Lucas with my family or two years ago in Sacramento with Melissa. Regardless of what I was doing, where I was or who I was with, one thing that all of my past New Year's Eve celebrations have in common is that there were no flaming giant rats involved. That was definitely a first!

Merry Christmas #2 (and beyond) or, "Better late than never - part 1"

For my second Christmas in Bologna (does anyone else think I might be a little bit spoiled?), about 12 Bolognese-Americans grouped together for a Christmas Eve dinner at my place, AKA the house with the biggest kitchen. I decorated the kitchen with lights and other decorations which my study center loaned me, and everyone admired my adorable little Christmas tree. The dinner was incredible - for the main dish, my friend Johnny made coconut chicken which is probably one of the best things I've ever tasted. I made rice, beans and guacamole and Johnny made two different kinds of salsa. Everyone brought side dishes as well, and there was enough wine to get a small town reasonably drunk. We celebrated until 5AM when half the guests went home and the other half fell asleep on my various couches. When we woke up the next morning (afternoon), there were no presents from Santa under my tiny little tree, but we all went out for lunch and met up later for an evening of ice-skating... and I didn't fall once! Of course I missed my family a lot, since this is my first Christmas away from home... I think all my friends felt that way too, though, so we stuck together and had an amazing time.

After the Christmas festivities had completely died down, I found myself with an empty house, a case of the holiday blues, and absolutely no responsibilities whatsoever. So, my friend Susan came over for a cocktail party. Of course, by cocktail party I mean dressing up, listening to jazz music and drinking White Russians and fruity cocktails - just the two of us. It was a perfect (and admittedly, strange) cure for our holiday homesickness.
I spent the next few days with Kelly and her two visiting American friends, Bayard and Jake. We played cards, watched James Bond, and then took a day trip to Modena. Modena is most well-known for its balsamic vinegar, which as I should have guessed, means that there's not very much going on in Modena. It was a really fun trip, though, and I got to see lots and lots of vinegar in bottles of all shapes and sizes!

This is probably the most "happening" piazza in Modena:When we got back to Bologna, we went out to dinner at my favorite local trattoria, and had Bologna's specialty - pasta al ragu, also known as meatymeatymeat sauce. This is just one of the reasons I prefer Bologna to Modena. (Of course, since coming to Italy I've gotten into the habit of judging a city based solely on its food!)

Christmas comes to a close here, with a full belly and good company. It's incredible what good friends and a little hearty meat sauce can do to lift a girl's spirits.

Merry Christmas #1

Since all of my roommates are leaving for their hometowns in the next few days, we decided to celebrate Christmas early.

Can you guess whether this is a photo of:
a) very large presents, or
b) an itty bitty Christmas tree?

I suppose the fact that it's sitting on the kitchen counter is probably a pretty big hint, or the fact that the Santa Claus tree-topper is almost as big as the tree itself...

Gift summaries:

Andrea, our household musician, got an oh-so-stylish music note hat and a music note espresso cup. Pier, our household chef, got an ethnic foods cookbook so he can expand his current repertoire of "all italian, all the time."

Added bonus: a photo of the guys looking goofy. :)

Marta and I went in together on Giada's gift - a three piece "tea mug" as I have chosen to call it, which is a large mug with a lid and uh, steeper? Is that even a word? Giada gave scarves to both me and Marta and somehow managed to find the perfect scarf for each of us. I suppose it must be in her blood, she has such a fine-tuned sense of fashion that she can instantly judge other people's fashion tastes as well... I gave Marta a tutu skirt because she's cool enough to pull off a tutu, and Marta gave me a copy of "O Principezinho."

There are two amazing things about this photo:

1. My little prince is now tri-lingual.
2. My new scarf also doubles as a beautiful backdrop. Brilliant. :)

Our mini-Christmas wasn't exactly traditional, but it was wonderful. I'll be sure to let you all know how things go on the 24th, but it has quite a lot to live up to!

As Meninas Estão Comendo uma Maçã

My lovely roommate Marta wrote a blog (here) that explains it all in three languages, bless her polyglottal soul... but I'm not quite that impressive so I'll just explain it in one.

I'm going to visit Marta in Portugal! Bought my tickets yesterday and on January 5th, Ryan and I will be flying with the appropriately-named Ryanair to Porto, Portugal where we'll fare un giro with Marta for a few days, making our way down to Lisbon!


This is wonderful. It's also very convenient because I recently acquired (don't ask how - I'll plead the 5th) a copy of Rosetta Stone. That's right, I'm learning Portuguese, as you can see by the fancy Portuguese title of this blog: The girls are eating an apple. Why did I choose this phrase instead of something more relevant to the situation? For two important reasons:

1. It gets stuck in Marta's head when she overhears me repeating it 200 times a day.
2. It's the longest sentence I know in Portuguese.
(and one of the very few complete sentences...)

So, I'm off to visit my beautiful roomie and who knows, maybe I'll get the chance to practice my new language... let's just hope that there are lots of girls eating an apple in Portugal!

Bologna by Night

I've had a lot of free time lately. I only have one class which meets 6 hours a week. I babysit for another 6 hours a week, which leaves about 156 hours for doing whatever I feel like doing. Of course, since the weather's been pretty dreary lately, what I feel like doing usually consists of sitting in my bed sipping hot tea while reading or watching a movie. As great as this sounds, I've been feeling really lazy and unproductive. Tonight, after dinner, I was overcome by the need to get out. I didn't leave the house all day so I decided that a little fresh air would be good for me. I bundled up in more layers than would ever be necessary in California, and went for a long walk around Bologna.

There was hardly anyone out tonight, probably because it was 11pm and freezing, but I appreciated the quiet (very, very rare in this city). It gave me a chance to think, take a few pictures and just enjoy being alone for a little while.

I figured I'd use this as an opportunity to show everyone around a little... so, here's a very brief photo tour of Bologna at 11pm on a Sunday night. Enjoy :)

This is Piazza Santo Stefano. It's usually filled with students, but not tonight. During the day it's a great place to meet up with friends and have lunch, and at night it's often filled with people drinking/smoking/dancing/singing.

* * * * *

This is the piazza and fountain of Neptune, which is one of my favorite places to people-watch. It's right at the edge of Piazza Maggiore, so there's almost always something interesting going on. It was a great spot to rest during the summer because there was always a cool mist from the fountain. Now, as you can see, there's a huge Christmas tree in the piazza!

* * * * *

Via Rizzoli is one of the major streets in the city center - at the end you can see Torre Asinelli, one of the two main towers of Bologna. Torre Garisenda is the other, which can't be seen in the photo. Asinelli is open to the public, and I'm sure the view is amazing - but legend has it that climbing the tower before graduating brings extremely bad luck. Italians are very superstitious and I think it's rubbed off because I certainly won't be going up there...

* * * * *

Some of Bologna's Christmas decorations! Just about the entire city is decorated with Christmas lights right now. It's really beautiful but I can't help but wonder how much energy that take... or how much it costs! They do shut all the lights off at 1 or 2am though, so that's something.

The last photo is of my street! I actually took it while standing on the doorstep of my apartment building. Home sweet home. :)

Krampus

This weekend was weird. Strange. Bizarre. Odd. Freaky.

There really just aren't any words that adequately sum up what happened this weekend, so I guess I'll just start from the beginning and let everyone decide for themselves.

A few months ago, Giada told me about an annual Christmas festival which takes place in her hometown on the first weekend of December, and invited me and Marta to come with her. So on Thursday, we all packed up our bags and headed to Giada's city, Tolmezzo. It's a beautiful and tiny town surrounded by mountains, so far north that it's practically in Austria. It felt like an entirely different world, even though it was only 4 hours from Bologna by train!
Giada's boyfriend Massi picked us up at the train station and we all went to dinner at a local place called "Bef'ed." This restaurant was completely crazy, not like anything I've ever seen in Italy or in the United States. First of all, they don't believe in silverware - see, it's part of the fun! We were served shelled peanuts as an appetizer, and by "served" I mean that there was a giant pile of them on the table. The floor of the restaurant was completely covered in peanut shells, because this too is part of the fun. I'm not sure what it was about this place, but it felt awfully.... American. Anyway, Massi and Giada ordered for Marta and I, because apparently there's only one "right" choice when eating at Bef'ed: the polletto - practically an entire chicken.
Call me crazy, but I've never really considered an entire roasted chicken "finger food". I've also been a vegetarian for a pretty decent-sized chunk of my life, so this was a little bit... intense. To the incredible delight/disbelief of my carnivorous friends, I proclaimed "grazie pollo, per avermi dato la tua vita!" (thank you chicken, for giving me your life - yeah okay, a little weird but give me a break, I was about to eat an entire bird), and then I overcame my vegetarian doubts and devoured that thing like a good little carnivore. As proof, here's a picture of me that I doubt any of you ever expected to see:

Yes, I believe I am using my teeth and hands to rip a small animal's wing away from its torso. Definitely a new experience for me... and a tasty one!

As if this restaurant weren't strange enough, on the way out I saw what I thought was a gumball machine. I quickly realized, though, that these were no gumballs. No no, my friends, these were sexy panties.
That's right. Located above Winnie the Pooh and directly to the left of Hello Kitty, a beautiful (and tasteful) selection of thongs! I mean I guess it's not that much different than a gumball machine. Multi-colored, probably edible....

As you can see, my first impression of Tolmezzo was an interesting one. Trust me though, when I went to bed that night I had no idea what was still to come.

The next morning, I woke up to Marta's excited announcement: SNOW! I haven't seen that much snow since I lived in Michigan. The trees and houses were covered, cars were buried, everything was sparkling white and beautiful and cold. Luckily, Giada made sure I was equipped with heavy-duty, rainbow-colored mittens.

Armed with our mittens, we went to Giada's grandparents' house where they served us a huge lunch. I realize that most of my blogs so far have had to do with food, so I'll skip the details and just say that I was, once again, amazed at how much food my relatively small body can consume. When we had all recovered from the food coma, we set out for the festival. This is where things got really, really weird.

The Krampus festival is a traditional Austrian celebration in which the men of the town dress up as horrible demons and chase small children through the streets, beating them with whips.

No, no I'm not kidding.
It started with a "parade", although I hate to call it that because I like parades. They're usually pretty fun, you know - floats, beauty queens in convertibles, high school marching bands. This, on the other hand, was terrifying. The demons entered the town, waving torches and rattling their chains (yeah, some of the scary demons were chained to a giant wagon which was being driven by another scary demon). They were all screaming, growling and making all kinds of other demonic noises as they marched past, whipping anyone (me) who happened to be standing too close. This was not a joke or a friendly tap, people. I still have a bruise from the demon's whip, which is a sentence I hoped I'd never have to say.

When the demons reached the center of the town, they gathered in what was essentially a satanic ritual in which they were "set free" by San Nicolo. Yeah, Santa. Santa Claus unleashed hordes of demons on this town, giving them permission to run free and whip innocent young children and Americans. It was unbelievable. At one point, I watched a large hairy demon chase after a small girl, dive through the air, tackling the girl to the ground where he ripped off her hat and started rubbing her face in the snow. Unfortunately I didn't get a photo of this, as I was too busy dealing with my own evil demon attack.

Here's a description of a Krampus festival, taken directly from wikipedia:

"Today, Schladming, a town in Styria, over 1200 "Krampus" gather from all over Austria wearing goat-hair costumes and carved masks, carrying bundles of sticks used as switches, and swinging cowbells to warn of their approach. They are typically young men in their teens and early twenties and are generally intoxicated. They roam the streets of this typically quiet town and hit people with their switches. It is not considered wise for young women to go out on this night, as they are popular targets."

Mm hmm. Interesting. I especially like that last part.

The second portion of the festival took place at the bottom of a forested hill. The demons came down through the trees, clanking their cowbells as usual, shooting off flares, hissing and screaming. The forest was illuminated with red lanterns and several small fires, and there was an eerie amount of fog which I told myself came from fog machines. There was also terrifying music playing. It was one of the scariest experiences of my life, watching the demons slowly descending towards me through the fog... When they reached the bottom of the hill they engaged in yet another satanic ritual and then (of course) they started whipping children again.
The funny thing is, people bring their children to this festival every single year! They want their children to be whipped by demons! I actually saw parents laughing hysterically as they tried to get the perfect photo of their child, being held upside-down and shaken by an evil demon. The whole town goes nuts for this festival, and people spend months preparing their masks and costumes. There were even tiny models of Krampus monsters:

(In case you're confused, the small child is kneeling in prayer as he is being surrounded by Krampus demons.)

Hopefully now you all understand why the word "weird" just doesn't cover it!

Luckily, we all escaped relatively unharmed. One of the demons actually posed for a photo with me before whipping me in the legs (never trust a demon, especially if he has Santa's permission to whip you!)...

The rest of the weekend was much less demon-infested and I had a great time with Marta and Giada, playing in the snow and hanging out with Giada's family. I'm so lucky to have such wonderful roommates... I honestly can't think of anyone I'd rather be chased by demons with.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sometimes writing these blogs is easy, I just start writing and then after a while I realize that I've probably written enough to bore my readers into a state of numb confusion... and voila!

Other times, it's harder... I don't know, the words just don't come to me as easily as they sometimes do. That's what happened when I was trying to write my "Happy Thanksgiving" blog on Thursday. Maybe it was hard because the holiday left me in such a daze that I wasn't sure how to describe how I was feeling about everything. Maybe it was because I'd had an exam that day and had used up all of my brainpower. Maybe it was because I'd eaten too much and my brain couldn't function because my body was focusing all of its energy on digestion. Or maybe, and this is a very definite possibility, it was because I was trying to think and write coherently at 3:00AM after a very, very long day.

Whatever the reason, I didn't manage to write a blog on Thanksgiving. Sorry about that. Let's just pretend that I was confused by the time change. Hey, it's plausible - you try switching continents!

I woke up on Thursday feeling surprisingly content, even though I couldn't escape the burden of the knowledge that I was away from my family on Thanksgiving - my favorite holiday precisely because it brings us all together. I lay in bed for a while thinking about my situation and the more I thought about it, the more I realized just how much I am thankful for.

Of course, I'm thankful for the opportunity that I've been given - to live in this beautiful country for a year, meet incredible people and have amazing experiences that I'll remember for the rest of my life. I'm thankful for my family and friends back home who will always be there for me, even if I do live on the other side of the world. I'm thankful for my cozy apartment and my roommates, for the shoes on my feet and my incredibly warm scarf. I'm thankful for the snow here and for the tasty roasted chestnuts that I can buy from the street vendors on my way to class.

It's so much more than just than being thankful for what I have, though. I'm thankful for every experience I've had, for the lessons that I've learned and from the trials I've overcome. On days like Thanksgiving I miss my brother so much that it hurts, but I think of my family and of how strong they are, and I'm incredibly thankful for how close we have become. Being here, so far away from them has made me realize just how strong our ties are - that I can feel so close to them even though I haven't seen them in months.

I'm thankful for my friends here in Bologna, and for the study center which organized the incredible Thanksgiving feast in Padova. As it turns out, Italians suck at cooking Thanksgiving food... but hey, it was hilarious trying to guess what was actually in the strange dish they called "stuffing" or which body parts of the turkey we were being served. Was it even turkey? We'll never know.
The dinner, although perhaps not as satisfying as my mom's collection of traditional recipes back home, brought all of us Americans together to celebrate what we have to be thankful for here in Italy... which, among other things, is a group of wonderful friends that we can feel at home with during the holidays. Also, it's a group of friends who makes incredible desserts which make up for the Italians' lack of Thanksgiving savvy. The potluck portion of the dinner was amazing, with dozens of desserts. Chocolate cake, apple pie, banana bread, cookies, mmmmmmmm it was delicious. Yes, I'm definitely thankful for dessert.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving back home - I would really love to hear about it so leave me a comment or write me an e-mail! Tell me what you're thankful for :)

2 Degrees in Bologna...

It is officially freezing. Actually, it's 2 degrees celsius which is still technically above freezing. However, the windows in my house are frozen, which leads me to believe otherwise.

Brrrrr.

The weather here has definitely taken a turn for the worst, which is one of the reasons that I haven't blogged in a while. I just haven't really done anything. I've been curled up inside studying for exams, so I haven't been taking many pictures or traveling much at all. Maybe I'll be able to scrounge up a few interesting experiences to fill a blog, let's see...

First of all, I am officially a nanny. (Or as Italians say, a dada.) I have two very small new friends, Carlo (3) and Giorgia (7). I meet with them 2-3 times a week to "teach English" which usually consists of playing with Carlo's toy cars or watching "High School Musical 3" with Giorgia. It's not a fun job, but somebody's got to do it! An added bonus is the fact that the family has a winter vacation home in Cortina. Where's Cortina? Here's a picture, courtesy of Google:
Simona, the kids' mother, told me that if I come with them for a weekend and speak English with the family, she'll pay me 60 euro per day and "of course" pay for all my food and activities (for example, skiing and excessive cocoa-drinking). As I said, definitely not a fun job.

On a less cocoa-filled note, I took my first exam last week in Applied Linguistics. The first part was written - the prova scritta. It consisted of 5 questions which were painfully broad... one of the questions was literally "Write about something that you find important." I was tempted to write about mexican food (I miss it, alright? My diet here is severely lacking spiciness!) but I figured my professor might not find it as amusing as I would. After 30 minutes of writing she said that we only had 30 minutes remaining on the exam. I found this a bit surprising... see, I was expecting two hours because our professor had said "you will have two hours." Go figure. I only managed to finish 3 of the 5 essay questions by the time she took my paper. I'm not sure why she cut us off early - I think she probably had a meeting or something, most likely with the devil. (Okay, maybe not, but it was still a rude thing to do.)

A week after the written portion of the exam, I went back for the oral portion. Luckily, my professor allowed me to orally discuss the questions that I'd left blank on the written test. It was pretty terrifying, discussing linguistic theories in Italian... especially because there were other Italian students in the hall, just watching me! At first I was extremely nervous and the professor said that I could explain in English if I wanted, but I said no. I felt a little more confident after that, and at the end I received a 28 on the exam. The maximum score is 30, so I'm not complaining!

In addition to doing well on my exam, I had another wonderful surprise last week! Someone rang the buzzer at our building about 10 days ago and I answered "chi è?" like I always do.... but instead of hearing garbled Italian on the other end of the line, I heard "ummmmm.... hi, is Pierluca there?" and my heart lept for joy - Americans!!!!

Kevin and Jeff, to be precise. Pierluca met them when he was visiting a friend in California, and they stayd with us for over a week. A few days after they arrived, my friend Allison (the girl I stayed with in Dublin) came to stay with us as well and for the first time in the history of my apartment, the Americans outnumbered the Italians! Yesss! It was nice living with people who don't find me completely bizarre, and it actually really helped with my homesickness. It was almost like being back home! On one of their first nights here, we ordered pizza, drank beer and watched James Bond. I'm just not sure there's any better combination in the world.

We also made mexican food... not once, but twice.

It really was a beautiful week.